


All of Those Things and More

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Frustration, also thats just in every kylux fic i write, smoking? really just a reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:14:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ren is away. Hux is frustrated and takes time to deal with it late during third shift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All of Those Things and More

**Author's Note:**

> Basically [@tashacho](http://tashacho.tumblr.com/) and I were talking about this, and I meant to write a drabble. 
> 
> But then I wrote a fic.

It's cold next to the viewport, but Hux thinks that might help. And he presses his forehead to it, fingers flattening against it in little fat circles, pushing out to space. To the darkness, to the dim. To a planet so far away that Hux isn't even sure he could see its star if he stood on the bridge, stared at that huge bank of pinprick lights. 

And he wonders if, all those light years away, Ren can feel him looking. 

If he can feel the hot push of Hux's frustration, the sweat that beads at his hairline, slides through his hair to leave it damp, falling into his eyes. Does he have an ear cocked upward, listening to the flutters that only he can hear? Does he stand there staring, chin tilted towards the sky?

Hux hopes he does.

Hopes that there's a coil of want deep in Ren's stomach, a sick twisting feeling that flutters down to his knees as the days gather between them. Because as hours turn to a week, Hux feels it. 

He's gotten shorter with the bridge crew. He's sure of it. He's seen their grimaces, seen the way that they move faster, fingers tapping across screens with an efficiency even he's impressed with. And he would feel bad except that he doesn't. Can't. Not while his mind is busy ignoring the aching need flickering through his bones. 

He should have known better.

Because Hux has always been easily addicted. To the rush of chemicals through his bloodstream as he blows smoke into the stale third shift air, to the feel of skin, bone under his fist as he spars with the troopers, to the rush he gets when he solves a particularly tricky equation. 

And why he had thought Ren would be any different, he can't remember. 

Perhaps he'd thought that Ren was not a cigarette, not a trooper, not an equation, but rather a man. With soft lips and a twisted face, flashing eyes. Hair in braids about his face. Hands clumsy that first time they'd reached under Hux's collar, awkward fingers pawing at him, overeager. 

He was wrong. 

Of course he was. Because Ren is all of those things and more. He's a drug, Hux high on power. He's the slap of flesh on skin, the grunt of impacts. He's an enigma, too eager to please, a prodigy who cannot succeed. And he's more. He's the fingers tracing down Hux's spine at night. He's the whisper in Hux's ear at the end of a staff meeting. The shadow behind Hux's back, at his shoulder as Hux faces down Admirals and Generals ten, fifteen years his senior. A voice, begging, pleading: “Just let me, Hux. Please. Just let me make you happy, make you feel again.”

And now, when Ren is gone – just for two weeks, you won't even notice – Hux isn't sure what to do. 

He turns away from the viewport, glances at the clock. And it's three hours into third shift, and he should have been asleep more than an hour ago, almost two. 

His uniform thumps as it hits the floor, a crumpled pile of fabric. And Hux should fold it, has certainly reminded Ren of how important those details more than once. But tonight he can't bring himself to. He can't stomach anything more than he has to do. So instead he makes his way, naked, to the fresher. There are dark circles under his eyes when he glances into the mirror. 

But Ren isn't here to see. 

And so it doesn't matter. No one else will say anything, at least. And if the general looks a little more tired than is usual, well, that just lets the troopers know he's hard at work. The water is cool on his sweating face as he splashes it up. He'll wash the product out of his hair in the morning. He will. 

He's still a little wet, droplets trickling down his nose as he trips back into the bedroom. 

And now to the worst part. He cuts the light out, finds his way into the blankets. And they're cool on his skin, not warmed by Ren's absurd body heat. And it's even worse, and Hux finally can't keep his hand away. 

The first stroke over his dick has him moaning into the black air. He's been hard so long, cock aching, throbbing as he sat as his desk, as he pressed himself against the viewport. Every movement an agony of frustration, of annoyance. Because he can't have what he wants, and Hux has never been very good at self denial. Yet now, he can't scratch this burning itch the way he always has in the past. 

Always, then, he'd gone and found a hole to fuck. 

Man, woman, something entirely different, it had never mattered. Only that Hux got rid of this burning need when he wanted, didn't have to curl in his bed with only his hand for company. Only that there was a hole to fuck, a mouth, a pair of hands. And he'd thought about this time, of course. It is not as though he and Ren have ever discussed something as absurd as being faithful to one another.

And yet. 

Hux knows, as certain as he knows the plans to Finalizer, that it will not help him. That even if he were to go fuck a pretty young officer, pull short hair back and bite into unmarked skin, it would not compare. That he would leave unsatisfied, ache still there, maybe still hard, cock uncomfortably still between his legs. 

No, what Hux needs is Ren. Ren bouncing on his dick, that smirk that he gets when Hux gasps beneath him. That smirk that Hux has wiped away more than once with a flick of his wrist around Ren's cock, a flutter of teeth just behind Ren's ear in a mockery of a kiss. Hux needs the little whimpers that Ren always makes as Hux pushes into him, cock just teasing at the pucker of his hole. He needs the ring of bruises he's bitten onto Kylo's neck, the collar of old blood just below the surface of Kylo's skin. 

A shiver ripples up his spine, and Hux realizes that he's still palming at his dick, still stroking whispering fingers over the head of his cock, teasing at the slit. And it's a lazy rhythm he has, half dazed with sleep and need, and he wasn't even thinking about it. But now that he's noticed the progress of his own body, the way the base of his spine feels warm, needy, he starts to stroke a little faster. 

And wonders: is Ren doing this too?

Has Ren slipped inside the bedroom wherever he is, run those huge clumsy hands over the front of his robes? In his mind, Hux can see it. Ren pushing aside those heavy robes, cupping a hand over his cock even through the softness of his leggings. Glancing furtively at the door, willing with all that considerably determination, might, that the other knights not come inside, not see him with his robes twisted around himself, his leggings snugged underneath his balls, splayed on the big bed Hux imagines for him. 

And he can see it, how Ren has few fingers shoved inside his own lips, is sucking on them as well as he always sucks on Hux's. And that had been a pleasant surprise when they first started fucking, the way that Ren groaned when Hux slipped just a finger into his mouth, let him suck on just a little corner of Hux. 

And now, Hux can see him, can see how he moans around those fingers. How Ren twitches his hips upward, ruts against his own hand. And it's one of the things Hux likes best about him, how needy Ren can been, how wanton. As though no one ever told him not to be. 

They probably never did.

And Hux won't complain about their oversight, never. Because he's the one who gets to watch Ren writhe on his cock, see Ren fuck himself back onto Hux. And it's a beautiful sight. 

Sometimes he wonders what Ren gets out of it. And then he thinks about guidance, about mentorship, and then he ignores it all. In favor, of course, of his dick. 

Because Hux has a hand wrapped around it still. And it's not the phantom huge clamp of Ren's hand from his dreams. But it's good enough, especially with Ren's image still plaguing his brain, slipping from his mind unbidden. And he pulls a little harder at himself, reaches a hand round to fondle his balls, a little rough, a little off. 

For a moment, he's tempted to slick up two fingers, to slide them into his ass – and it has to be so tight now, weeks since he'd let Ren open him up. Usually, he's the one sliding something into Kylo's ass, fingers, cocks, a toy, it's all good enough for Ren. But sometimes he wants Ren's thick fingers stretching him out, stroking across his entire body. 

But not tonight. No, as a droplet of sweat slides into Hux's eyes, he thinks of what he does want. He want Ren clenching about him (he squeezes harder on his cock). He wants the high pitched whine in the back of Ren's throat as he wraps tight fingers around it (he clenches one around his own adams apple, squeezes slightly until he feels a little lighter, brighter). 

And then he's pinching at his own nipples, something that Ren does when Hux asks, his face open and raw with awe. And Hux can see it now, can see it as his hand speeds on his cock. Ren, looming above him, slow slide up and down his dick, ass filled over and over as Hux pushes into him. 

And he can imagine what it feels like, tighter, hotter than anything else has ever been, better than anything else. A drop of sweat hovers on Hux's lip and he licks it off, bites at his lip as he runs trembling fingers over the head of his cock.

There's precome leaking from it now, just enough that Hux's hand glides as he slides it down to wrap fingers around the base of his dick. To pet at the soft hair there before sliding upward, thumbing at the vein he can feel popping out. Slick back now, a twisting motion that Hux moans for. Hux gasps, sound sharp in the dead air of his bedroom. Bites his lip as it seems like sparks run through his skin.

His hand takes one more fluttering path from root to tip, there and back down, and then he's arching off the bed again, back contorting as he think of the way Ren would pant as Hux fucked him, the way which Ren would beg for it. 

And he's coming. 

Mind pouring outward, begging for Ren to come back, that instant, let Hux fuck him right there, tired and sore and unhappy as he is, as Ren must be. 

And as he collapse back into the sheets, sticky with sweat, come across his stomach in a cooling puddle, Hux wonders how he can survive this. How he cannot burn in the fire that is need, and way, and Kylo Ren.


End file.
